There’s a politically incorrect consensus among the American Elite that to truly be a member, you have to have done a stint on the East Coast. No city on that side of the country is more attractive than New York, and that’s why so many young people flock out there with fantasies about reading Lolita on the Q and smoking cigarettes on the steps of their brownstone. Many of my friends have lived in the concrete jungle, and I’ll admit that I too have come dangerously close at least twice. Whenever I feel angsty, part of me wishes I had reconsidered — but then I remember that I’ve chosen Los Angeles instead, and it’s hard to truly regret a decision like that.
I visited New York City again a few weeks ago and, as always, spent a good part of the trip defending my city. No we are not all vapid, there is nothing wrong with it being 73 degrees everyday, and having your own car is awesome because you can make out in the backseat without anyone watching.
I would have liked more than three days because then I could have explored some uncharted neighborhood venues, but I still took home a good number of highlights.
Photos: TL) I was nicely situated near Times Square. TR) I found an Amorino in Greenwich Village. Their attention to detail was amazing — the gelato comes to you too pretty to eat, and everything from the candy displays to the guy behind the counter were at charming level: Italian. BL) Chelsea Market was an area I wish I had the time to explore more, but I was in a rush to experience BR) the High Line, which was pretty but underwhelming.
I can’t deny that every time I’m in New York, I ask myself, “Could I live here?” The city is embedded in too much pop culture that makes you wonder if you’re brave enough to try. I think the answer for me is an unremarkable “yes.” A few days into the trip, Metrocard loaded and personality toned down, I could see myself as a temporary New Yorker. It’s a city like Los Angeles in that way — everyone is pretending, so there’s a floating standard when it comes to doing it right. I’d be a transplant like a lot of other residents, but unlike someone who grew up smalltownsheltered, I’d have my eye on home. And I figure if I already know I’m going to end up in Big Beautiful Los Angeles, then I might as well use my time wisely and enjoy the palm trees out here while they’re still around (you heard me right). Besides, Los Angeles is closer to Las Vegas and San Francisco. I’m not really sure what’s good in Boston.